


Seasons Greetings

by Witch_Nova221



Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, GOC2020, Gen, Good Omens Celebration 2020, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), SO MUCH FLUFF, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24074089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_Nova221/pseuds/Witch_Nova221
Summary: Crowley returns home to a crying angel and finds a Christmas card to be the cause. Written for the Good Omens Celebration 2020 with the theme of 'family'
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728172
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	Seasons Greetings

The door creaked open, allowing in a puff of chilly wind, a few adventurous snowflakes and a demon grumbling in out of the cold. He closed the door, shaking his head to rid his hair of the few flakes that dared to cling to it before shrugging off his heavy coat and scarf.

'Angel, I'm back,' he called, 'Mrs McCready said thank you for the basket. She's doing ok but going to be laid up until the New Year. I managed to get everything you wanted from the shop though you were right about needing to miracle in the strawberries, not a sniff of soft fruit to be had. Angel? You about?'

He kicked off his boots, collecting up his bags and heading towards the kitchen, muttering about angels and book induced deafness, imagining the scene in the study above his head. He had little doubt the angel was sat primly in his chair beside the fire- carefully controlled with a miracle, Crowley had been most insistent on that when Aziraphale has expressed how nice a real fire would be in the winter- lost in the pages of some dusty old tome. It was a sight he had grown used to as the winter weather began to draw in around their cottage. 

He set the bags on the kitchen table, a click of his fingers sending the contents to their respective cupboards, as he busied himself in fixing two fresh cups of tea. He allowed himself a small smile at the domesticity of it all, the practice so familiar since they had retired to the quiet little village that had been their home since the spring. 

Mugs in hand, he headed back through the house to the stairs, the third and eighth step creaking as always beneath him but he knew even that would fail to rouse the angel from his books. He heard the faint crackle of the fire as he turned onto the landing, warm light spilling from the half closed door. 

'Thought you might be in need of refreshment,' said Crowley, shouldering open the door, 'I got the shopping you wanted and... angel?'

Despite his best efforts, Aziraphale wasn't quick enough to hide the evidence of the tears on his cheeks and Crowley quickly set down the mugs before kneeling before the angel's chair.

'What's wrong?' he said, eyes flicking quickly over him, checking for injury as demonic senses chased every sensation in the room for influences from either of their sides, 'Are you hurt? Has someone been here?'

Aziraphale shook his head, hastily wiping the remain tears away with a pristine handkerchief. 'Not at all, please don't look so worried,' he said, 'I'm absolutely fine, just being a little foolish.'

Crowley shook his head, 'Whatever has made you cry does not come under my definition of foolish,' he said, 'I was only gone for an hour and you were singing along to Christmas songs when I left.'

Aziraphale sighed, his cheeks pinking as he handed Crowley a card. 'Post came, we received a card from the Shadwells.'

Crowley regarded the traditional scene on the front of the card before opening it and seeing nothing out of the ordinary than a traditional greeting. 'I can't see what would cause such a reaction from you,' he said, 'Was there a letter? Bad news?'

Aziraphale shook his head, 'Not at all, just the words. From our family to yours,' he said, tears jumping to his eyes once more no matter how hard he tried to blink them away, 'And I realised that I've never had a family until now. Christmas was always so busy for me but so lonely too. This year though... you see, I'm being foolish.'

Crowley set the card on the small table, folding Aziraphale's hands in his own. 'Not foolish,' he said, 'But I hope living with me doesn't reduce you to tears too often.'

'Only happy tears,' he said, 'It's just reminders like this that throw into relief what they kept me from, what I kept me from for so many years. After six thousand years I have a family and my only regret is that I didn't realise it sooner.' 

Crowley smiled, feeling the moisture in his own eyes though he would never admit to it. 'Well, we're together now so that's all that matters. As dear Lady Shadwell said, we're a family, you and me and no one is taking that away from us ever again.'

'I sincerely hope not, dear boy, and certainly not if I have a say in it,' said Aziraphale, 'I do love you so.'

'Soppy old angel,' said Crowley before he pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, 'I love you too. Now come on, I think dinner and a bottle of wine are the order of the evening.'

'And putting up the tree?' said Aziraphale, with a soft smile at the groan he received, 'You did promise.'

'Tree it is then,' said Crowley, setting the card on the mantelpiece as he got to his feet, 'I suppose we'll have to start sending out cards too. Can't be outdone by the humans. Happy Adopted Pagan Festival That Has No Bearing On The Calendrical Date Of Christ's Birth or some such.'

'Merry Christmas will usually suffice,' said Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around him as he stood, 'From the Crowley-Fells.'

'From the Crowley-Fells,' said Crowley, a small miracle attaching a sprig of mistletoe to the roof above them even though it wasn't needed.


End file.
